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C. M.

141.

DEVIZEE.
SWEET is the confidence of faith,

That trusts God's firm decrees;
Sweet to lie passive in his hand,

And know no will but his.
Sweet to rejoice in lively hope,

That when my change shall come,
Angels will hover round my bed,

And waft my spirit home.
There shall my dis-imprison'd soul

View Jesus, and adore ;
Be with his likeness satisfied,

And grieve and sin no more.
Soon too my slumb'ring dust shall hear

The trumpet's quick’ning sound;
And by my Saviour's pow'r rebuilt,

At his right hand be found.

MACEDONIA.

142.

P. M. (8 & 7.)
SWEET the moments, rich in blessing,

Which before the cross I spend ;
Life, and health, and peace possessing

From the sinner's dying friend.
Here I'd sit for ever viewing

Mercy's streams, in streams of blood;
Precious drops my soul bedewing,

Plead and claim my peace with God.
Love and grief my heart dividing,

Gazing here I'd spend my breath ;
Constant still in faith abiding,

Life deriving from his death.
Lord, in endless contemplation,

Make me view thy love divine ;
Till I taste thy whole salvation,

Where unveil'd thy glories shine.

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THAT holy rite, that solemn vow, .
May we its heav'nly influence know,

Born from above, and kept, and blest:
So pass'd thy people through the flood;
So, guided by the shadowing cloud,

They gain'd the promis'd Canaan’s rest.
Baptiz'd into the Saviour's death,
Oh may we die to all beneath,

And live henceforth to him alone :
Serve him with zeal and patience here,
And wait till he, our life, appear,

And raise us to a heav'nly throne.

8. M.

144.

CARLISLE.
THAT we may walk with God,

He forms our hearts anew;
Takes us, like Ephraim, by the hand,

And teaches us to go.
· He by his Spirit leads,

In paths before unknown;
The work to be perform'd is ours,

The strength is all his own.

Assisted by his grace,

We still pursue our way;
And hope at last to reach the prize,

Secure in endless day.
'Tis he that works to will,

'Tis he that works to do;
His is the pow'r by which we act,

His be the glory too.

145.
BODDINGTON.

L. M.
THE cross, the cross, O that's my gain !
Because on that the Lamb was slain ;
'Twas there my Lord was crucified,
'Twas there my Saviour for me died.
Here will I stay and gaze awhile
Upon the Friend of sinners vile;
Abas'd I view what I have done
To God's eternal, gracious Son.
Here I behold as in a glass,
God's glory with unveiled face;
And by beholding, I shall be
Made like to him who loved me.
Here doth the Lord of life proclaim
To all the world his saving name :
Repenting souls, in him believe;
Ye wounded, look on him, and live.

146. WESTMORLAND. P. M. (4-6's & 2-8's.)

THE happy morn is come:
Triumphant o'er the grave,
The Saviour leaves the tomb,

Omnipotent to save :
Captivity is captive led,
For Jesus liveth, who was dead,

Who now accuseth them
For whom their Surety died ?
Who shall their souls condemn

Whom God hath justified ?
Captivity is captive led,
For Jesus liveth, who was dead.

Christ hath the ransom paid !
The glorious work is done;
On him our help is laid;

By him our vict'ry won :
Captivity is captive led,
For Jesus liveth, who was dead.

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THE hour of my departure's come;
I hear the voice that calls me home;
At last, O Lord ! let trouble cease,
And let thy servant die in peace.
The race appointed I have run;
The combat's o'er, the prize is won;
And now my witness is on high,
And now my record's in the sky.

Not in mine innocence I trust;
I bow before thee in the dust :
And through my Saviour's blood alone
I look for mercy at thy throne.
I leave the world without a tear,
Save for the friends I held so dear;
To heal their sorrows, Lord, descend,
And to the friendless prove a friend.

I come, I come at thy command,
I give my spirit to thy hand;
Stretch forth thine everlasting arms,
And shield me in the last alarms.
The hour of my departure's come;
I hear the voice that calls me home :
Now, O my God! let trouble cease,
Now let thy servant die in peace.

148 WARWICK.

C. M.
THE Lórd is come; let heaven rejoice;

Let earth receive her King;
Angels rejoice with tuneful voice,

And ev'ry creature sing.
Joy to the earth; the Saviour reigns ;

Let praise our tongues employ;
While seas and shores, rocks, hills and plains,

Repeat the notes of joy.
No more let sin and sorrow grow,

Nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make his blessings flow,

Where'er the curse is found.
He rules the world with truth and grace,

And bids the nations prove
The glories of his righteousness,

The wonders of his love. 149. BRADING.

L. M.
THE Pastor's voice we lov'd to hear,
But often heard, alas, in vain,
In hallow'd words of praise and prayer,
Will never bless our ear again!
Oh let us dwell with solemn thought
On all the words of truth he gave;
The lesson to the heart is brought,
When sorrow muses o'er the grave.
O Saviour, from thy holy hill
Regard our wants, and hear our cry:
Thou art our Guide and Shepherd still,
Though earthly pastors fall and die.
When thou didst bid thy flock farewell,
Thy love could make their sorrows cease :
The Spirit came with them to dwell;
The messenger of truth and peace.

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